Harry Potter and the Goblet of Firewhiskey
by darth spots and darth stripes
Summary: A parody of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' By J.K Rowling. READ ME! please?
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Firewhiskey by Spots and Stripes

This is our rendition of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire by JK Rowling. We own nothing and we're not making any profit from this, apart from your wonderful comments. Hint, hint. We hope that you find this entertaining, as we have spent so much time perfecting it to perfection.

Bean bag idea came from Procrastinator-starting2moro from we strongly recommend that you read her work because it is highly amusing. We may have used a few of her ideas, and we will credit them in due course.

Chapter One:

One dark, morbidly looking night, in a dark, morbidly looking village, there was an old and dark, morbidly looking house in which two dark and morbidly looking people were arguing over _very_ dark and morbidly sounding topics. Dark and morbid.

"Wormy worm worm! Come hither! You have continuously and consistently failed to adhere to my strict, straight forward and… er," Voldemort paused in thought, "provide me with an alternate word commencing with the letter of 's', Wormy!"

Wormtail quivered as his master spoke.

"S-s-seasonable?" Wormtail suggested.

"Yes. That will do. My strict, straight forward and seasonable instructions on the correct procedure on the creation of hot cocoa. Your self-control is abominable. I simply do no understand," Lord Voldemort stated from his bean bag of unfathomable doom (A/N: see above).

Wormtail could only stand, petrified, at his master's superiority. After all, he _was_ on the bean bag of unfathomable doom.

Voldie took his silence as an opportunity to berate him further on the 'Perils of incompetent cocoa making'.

After a highly complicated and confusing speech, all Wormtail had understood was the final command of "bring me a gin and tonic!".

Without a word, Wormtail went downstairs to fetch his master's beverage.

Whilst he was downstairs, he observed a stranger lurking in the dark, morbidly looking corner. The pale light of the lantern only illuminated a small, shiny statue of Katie Holmes' head which topped a pimp cane (_yes, _a pimp cane) and his glistening teeth, complimented with his dark and morbidly shifty looking eyes. Wormtail, being an optimist to the point of sheer stupidity, made nothing of this and passed it off as another feature of the undeniably spooky house. He finished fixing the beverage and made his way back upstairs to tend to his master.

After busying about after his master's request, Wormtail turned to leave and noticed that the 'feature' of the house had followed him.

"Hi, I'm looking for a Lord Voldemort? Is he in?" the feature asked in a very American accent.

"Yes, I am he. How may I offer you assistance?" Voldemort said with a polite, yet menacingly evil tone.

Wormtail suddenly made a violently high pitched "SQUEEEEE!", which shattered the window he was standing next to, allowing an influx of rain to flood one corner of the room.

Voldemort and the feature whipped their heads around, cocking and quirking one eyebrow respectively, in identical expressions that could give Zoolander's 'Blue Steel' a run for its money.

Wormtail finally spoke.

"I know you."

"Yes, I was rather hoping you would. I'm Tom Cruise. You may know me from such films as _Mission Impossible_, one, two _and_ three, _Top Gun_, _Rain Man_ and _War of the Worlds._"

"Oh!" exclaimed Voldemort, "You're from my favourite film _Risky Business_. I just love that old time Rock 'n' roll."

"Yah."

"Come hither, I like you. I shall now recount the tale of my latest slaughter," Voldemort beckoned.

Voldemort told his tale with increasing delight whilst his eyes sparked with a murderous glint.

"…and then I was like, _Avada Kedavra_, and then he was like dead."

He finished, without his usual sense of propriety. Suddenly, Barty Crouch Junior burst into the room covered in blood and dirt. If we daresay, he did come across as dark and morbid, yet this didn't conceal his handsome, windswept features. (Because, as we all know, _everyone_ in Harry Potter is handsome and windswept. Everyone.).

"Barty Junior, my main male! How are we on this illustrious eve?" Voldemort greeted Barty.

"Quite fine indeed, my master. I have very important news on our latest attack. What's with the bean bag?"

"This, I will have you know, is my bean bag of unfathomable doom – you may not treat it with such distaste," Voldemort said in an offended tone. "Yes, yes the attack - " he waved his arm dismissively as he remembered what Barty had actually said before insulting him so, "- Enough time for that later. You must meet our latest affiliate."

Tom Cruise did a classic movie-star smile: cheesy, seedy and smug – all in one!

Barty pointed to him in disbelief. "You're Tom Cruise!" he gasped.

"Yes I am!" Tom said turning up collar out and puffing his chest with cocky superiority.

"Enough! We need to refocus!" announced Voldemort (this seemed odd to the others, as they hadn't really said or done much at all…but you know, this is Lord Voldemort we're talking about here). Without further ado, he closed his eyes, threw his hands above his head, then clapped them together in a prayer position, bringing them down slowly until they were level with his chest.

Wormtail, Barty and Tom looked at each other confusedly. After losing the "You ask him!" eye-battle, Wormtail spoke.

"Er, m-master? Uh – what exactly are you doing?"

"Wormy, you insolent fool. I am refocusing, so I can plot in the correct frame of mind."

Voldemort closed his eyes, his features openly displaying his frustration. After a short while an expression of deep contentment came over his snake-like visage. Suddenly he snapped his eyes open.

"We need to formulate and visualise our new plan. Suggestions anyone? We need to collaborate on this imperative affair."

"We could use Tom in this - " Barty suggested, but was cut off by Voldemort's mad expression of disgust.

"Don't. Call. Him. Tom. There are too many tom's in this world." each word Voldemort spoke was accompanied by a sharp jab in Barty's chest.

"Oh. Well, Mr Cruise then," Barty continued, "should be a part of this. After all, he is a movie star and this could generate some good publicity for our Death Eaters! This might mean we make television this year!"

Wormtail squealed with excitement.

After a short pause, and much chin stroking on Voldemort's part, he finally spoke.

"Yes. I concur. Mr Cruise is indeed in my favourite film _The Terminator_."

Tom Cruise shifted his eyes from left to right.

"Er, well, as it happens…. I wasn't exactly… in.. _that_ movie," as he spoke fear increased in his voice.

Voldemort gasped. Gasp

"Well in _that_ case, I'll have to annihilate you," Voldemort said using the same tone he might have used if he'd asked Wormtail to put on a cup of tea.

"Why in the Dark Lord's name are you here anyways?" Barty enquired of Tom.

"Oh, I'm resident gatekeeper… the other dude's on holidays in the Bahamas."

"Sweet, I've always wanted to go there!" Barty said excitedly. "Can we go for a holiday master?"

"We can discuss such frivolous matters later. Right now I'm in the mood for some eradication-extermination!"

Voldemort whipped out his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

There was a flash of blinding green light as Tom Cruise was flung backwards out the window, off the cliffs and into the raging ocean.

"Since when was this house on a cliff?" Barty Junior asked, rather confused, as he'd last recalled it being in a small town..

* * *

The dream dissolved into a freshly painted off-white ceiling.

Harry stared blankly at the ceiling. Normally by now he'd be in indescribable pain from his scar.

A couple of seconds later it hit him and he fell onto the hard floor, curled up defensively and began shrieking like a girl.

It was then that Uncle Vernon decided to open the door and shout a vicious "SHUT YOUR FACE BOY!" before slamming it rather brutally whilst Harry whimpered weakly in the corner.

Harry's current state of pain reminded him vaguely of the time when a bludger had connected rather harmfully with his nether regions. Damn that had hurt.

**A/N: Hello! We hope that you have all enjoyed our very first chapter of what should be a rather long (we think) Goblet of Fire Parody. We will try to make the next chapter significantly longer. :o) Please review, critique until your heart is content!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Several days later

Harry awoke to the sounds and smells of… iced tea. It had a hint of mint and is that firewhiskey? He promptly bolted upright into a sitting position.

"NOT ICED TEA WITH MINT AND FIREWHISKEY!!" He screamed. His eyes sprung open to find Ron standing in the doorway holding a mug of a steaming substance, presumably iced tea with mint and firewhiskey. Or is it…?

"Calm down mate, tis merely a cup of English Breakfast tea. Made by yours truly for your drinking pleasure." Said Ron.

"Who the fuck is yours truly?" Harry exclaimed, after a stalker the previous year (which was mentally and emotionally scarring for all involved) one couldn't ever be too careful.

"Yours truly is _me_ you twat-face." Ron sighed.

"Oh, well, that's alright then." Replied Harry, taking the steaming beverage from his best mate.

"Hazza, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That would depend greatly on what you are thinking at this moment in time Ronny-poo."

"Well I don't know, I'm thinking that you should be thinking what I'm thinking. And don't call me Ronny-poo."

"Well how am I supposed to be thinking what your thinking when I don't know what you are thinking. Are you thinking that I'm psychic?" Harry said, brightening at the concept.

"Well I'm thinking – actually I don't know what I'm thinking, but I will tell you what I am thinking. I'm thinking that its world cup day! What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that…. You're gay."

"Well in that case, let's get going."

Harry stared at him with a quizzically sceptical look on his visage.

"Haz, you know I don't swing that way. Now get your booty moving!" Cue music – Shake Your Booty by Some random 80's person

The expression on Harry's features did not change.

"Oh come_ on_ Harry, let's get some breakfast happening downstairs."

Harry reluctantly rose from the warm covers of his bed and trudged sleepily after Ron.

Upon arrival to the kitchen, Harry and Ron had to duck for cover as Fred and George were practising their slightly-altered-"new and improved"-yet-overall-highly-dangerous levitation spells. Just as Fred was about to say the incantation to raise a plate stacked with bacon, fried eggs and sausages into the air, Mrs Weasley made her presence known.

"FEDERICK JASON WEASLEY! SAY ONE MORE SYLLABLE AND YOU WILL NOT GET SO MUCH AS A GLIMPSE OF THE FLAGS AT THE WORLD CUP!" Her supersonic screams resonated through the kitchen. Everyone froze, fear of Mrs Weasley's wrath taking precedence over their grumbling stomachs. Fred looked as if he had just come face to face with a basilisk without a wand.

"You both need to learn control over those sticks of yours!" Mrs Weasley continued after she had let her harsh ultimatum sink in.

"Mum, that was suss." George wailed in disgust. Fred grimaced. Harry smirked. Ron snorted.

GRIMACE

SMIRK

SNORT

Eyebrow Cock

"What?" Asked Fred, "Am I not allowed to cock my eyebrow?" Everyone sighed. This conversation was getting increasingly weirder by the second…

Mrs Weasley took it upon herself to commence a semblance of normality.

"Quick, you lot eat up your breakfast, _without_" she glared pointedly at the twins, "making it fly."

At this pronouncement of the announcement, they all began shovelling down the food that appeared on the table. With a swish of her wand Mrs Weasley cleaned the mess that Fred and George had (impressively) created.

Just as they were polishing off the remainder of the food on their plates, Mr Weasley made a loud entrance through the doorway.

"Morning Kiddos! Ready for the big day?!"

"Who's getting married?" Fred asked jokingly.

"Couldn't be Charlie, rumours are that he's got the hots for our Hazza here. Wink wink nudge nudge." George replied, elbowing Harry in the side and grinning madly. Harry responded with an 'are-you-freakin-insane?' look. One that he had perfected the previous year. Fed and George knew this look very well, having been on the receiving end of it many times. They shot back one of their own trademark looks: 'Yes-infact-we-are-insane-and-possibly-on-crack-but-don't-tell-mum' looks. As you know, this look is particularly hard to master, but master it they had.

Their somewhat advanced glancing competition was interrupted by Ron, who cleared his throat loudly (he'd been feeling left out – _his_ glances were pathetic in such competition).

"I _think_ what Dad was getting at when he said 'Big Day' was the Quidditch World Cup. Just an inkling I have, ya know…" he said with slightly scathing sarcasm, whilst stroking his chin in mock-thought.

Fred and George proceeded to slap him on the back of his head (how dare he pay them out? They were Fred and George!), which proved to be a little stupid, as Fred ended up slapping George's hand which had made contact with Ron's head faster. George, naturally, retaliated to Fred's accidental attack upon him and the twins broke into what would be perceived as a rather feminine bitch-slap fight.

"George – gmuphf-" Fred yelled incoherently as he received a painful slap to the neck. He quickly recovered, in time to dodge another slap, then slapped George's cheek with remarkable force.

"MOTHERFU-"

"George Weasley! Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence. Especially in front of our guests!" Mrs Weasley yelled at a volume that Harry was sure would effect his hearing permanently.

George paled. Mrs Weasley was giving the look. That look would probably be able to kill a blue whale giant koala. Thankfully family members were immune.

The room fell silent as everyone stared pointedly away. No one had much to say, so they stayed like that for a couple of minutes, each of them thinking pretty much the same thing – 'so…' (apart from Fred, who had "Flashdance – what a feeling" playing through his head, and, if the silence lasted much longer, he would most likely give into the urge to breakout in song and dance). Of course, no one said it, because saying "So…" is the equivalent of admitting that it was you who ate the last cookie from the cookie jar: no one actually cared that you said/did that, but it's still darn irritating. Fortunately, the awkward silence was broken by none other than Ginny, who had just joined them in the kitchen.

"Morning all, nice to see we're having a highly enthralling and intelligent conversation down here. When are we leaving for the cup?" Damn. That girl got wittier astute, derisive by the second.

This seemed to snap everyone back to reality.

"Oh, yeah the cup. That reminds me, we're supposed to be meeting the Diggory's in…" Arthur paused to check his watch, which was a muggle one (yeah, he was _totally_ obsessed), "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…eet! I was _not_ just about to swear. Five minutes! Quick everyone – get your things – we need to leave or we'll be late!"

Nobody refused this order. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George and Mr Weasley hurried frantically trying to sort out all their things. After about a minute, everyone was flustered but ready to go.

"Right," Mr Weasley said clapping his hands together and rubbing them, "I think we did rather swell. Let's get going!"

They all said goodbye to Mrs Weasley before exiting through the front door of the Burrow. Harry had expected to take a ministry car or likewise, yet Mr Weasley had begun to walk at considerable speed and he didn't think that they'd be slowing anytime soon.

They trudged along for what seemed like hours. Harry was glad when they reached a (random) oak tree, even though the reason for stopping did not seem apparent to him. He'd just opened his mouth to ask Mr Weasley when all of a sudden…

"Harry Potter!"

The smooth, confident voice had come from the remarkably attractive seventeen year old who had just jumped from the tree above. Harry tried not to let his shock become visible on his face.

"I'm Cedric Diggory – pleased to meet you," Cedric said whilst flashing Harry a smile and shaking his hand briefly.

"Er, hi…" was all Harry could muster. This dude had just jumped from a tree… who the hell does that?!

Ron jumped into the conversation, feeling it was his time to shine.

"Ron Weasley"

…more hand shaking…

"Hi there, Ron." Cedric turned to Hermione and Ginny, greeting them also. Harry liked this guy, he was nice. Nice people were good people, Harry had always thought. Hey, it made sense in his head – okay?

Cedric was not alone. Of course, his father was with him. Harry could tell they were related. Their features were almost identical, except his father was of course middle-aged, and they both had the confident, warm personality.

Along with his father there was Barty Crouch. He worked at the Ministry too. After polite small talk, they all continued to walk.

"So you guys are all in fourth year?" Cedric enquired as they paced forwards.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, "Except Ginny. She's third year." Ginny reddened at this comment. They all knew that she felt a little embarrassed for being a year younger than them, and while they tried their best to ignore the age difference, sometimes (like this time, for instance) it was unavoidable.

"Ahh, I see. And all Gryffindors? You must be a brave lot."

"We sure are!" Ron said heartily.

Hermione snorted. Ron looked at her.

"What's that s'posed to mean!?" He was annoyed.

"Oh nothing," she giggled, "it's just that that's coming from the guy who's afraid of _spiders_."

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid of spiders. Heaps of people are afraid of spiders. In fact, I have a theory: everyone is afraid of spiders, just some people notice it an others don't. I notice it. One day, when the spiders take over the world you'll be scared of them too. They're so hairy and freaky and if you'd seen a giant man-eating spider in the Forbidden Forest you'd be scared too, okay? Just the way they have eight eyes and legs and some of them can bite you and you can die and that's bad and OH my god I think I'm hyperventilating!" His voice was unnaturally high and Ron's breaths were certainly quickening (as is normal after rambling at two hundred miles per hour). By this stage Hermione had almost wet her pants with laughter. Ginny had joined her at the mention of his 'theory'.

"Just breathe Ron, breathe." Harry didn't want his best mate to die. Who would he tell his manly secrets to? Who would he tease? Who would he go to when Hermione just got that bit too brainy (which was often)? Most importantly, who would be his bitch? No, Ron had to live. So no matter how much Harry wanted to join into the hysterical laughter, he didn't. Instead he handed him a brown paper bag, which Ron took gratefully. He began to breathe slowly into it. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

Cedric looked at them like they were aliens.

Fred and George saw that Ginny and Hermione were laughing, then saw Ron hyperventilating. Ron established regular breathing patterns.

"Alright, we're here," they heard Mr Weasley call from the front of the group.

Harry, Ron and Hermione caught up to the others shoving into he circle everyone had made around… a shoe? Harry stared down at the red and purple striped stiletto shoe, wondering what it'd look like on his foot. _Crap I totally did not just think that. Man, Harry, man_. Harry thought with distaste.

"What the bloody hell are we doing standing around _this _for?!" Ron questioned the adults.

"Ah, you see, this is a Portkey," Mr Diggory said pointing towards the stiletto.

"…a portkey?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, a portkey. Honestly it's _really_ not that hard to understand. If only you read books!" Hermione said frustratedly.

"Alright then…. Let's get going shall we?" Mr Weasley said cheerfully, rubbing the palms of his hands together. They all grabbed onto the shoe . Harry closed his eyes and after a couple of seconds and a lot of spinning they were at a campsite. Harry could hear the merry tune of what sounded like a drinking song above the loud masses of people. He opened his eyes to see many tents, set out like a suburb might be. Colourful lights were everywhere, reminding him of Christmas all over again.

Everyone appeared to be as amazed Harry was. The group set up their tent (with a little help from our friend magic) and the adults went to bed. Naturally, Fred and George pulled out a liquid of some kind that bubbled violently. Harry doubted very much that the golden liquid was butterbeer.

"Alright, since it is the Quidditch Word Cup and all -" Fred began, taking out cups.

"- we thought we could use a little celebratory booze." George finished, grinning.

Ron was the first to react – he immediately jumped up and took a cup eagerly.

"How about the rest of you lot? Are you joining us in our festive festivities?" Fred enquired with raised eyebrows.

"I'm always up for a good drink" Ceddy shrugged, taking a cup which George had just poured into.

"Yeah, I'm in," Harry smiled.

Everyone looked at Hermione.

"Well, I -" she began.

Fred interrupted her.

"It's really not that big a deal, we're only going to play one silly game."

Hermione sighed.

"Oh, alright then" she tentatively took a cup from George's outstretch hand.

"Right, well – any suggestions for games?" Fred asked.

"How bout exploding snap, and the loser takes a drink?" George suggested.

"Nah, too overused" Fred rejected.

"What bout 'I Never'" Cedric offered.

"Hm. Nah, I've got a better idea" Ron said excitedly. "We play truth, dare or drink?"

Everyone agreed that this would be the best game. George went first.

"Cedric. Truth, dare, drink?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever watched an adult movie?"

Everyone gasped. How could George have asked that question to clean, sweet Cedric?

"I think I'll have to opt to drink now" a very red Cedric replied. He quickly reached for his cup and downed it. The group exchanged glances.

"Ohmigawd, that so means yes!" Ron cried, clapping his hands together like an excited girl.

"No, it doesn't" said Cedric. "Anyways, my turn!"

"Nice subject change.." Fred winked.

"Oh shuttup," Cedric snapped, "Harry, truth dare or drink?"

"Truth."

"If you had to pick someone to be gay with and I mean _had_ to, who would you choose?"

Harry pondered this question for a couple of seconds. One name had immediately come to his mind, yet he pushed it away because that was completely gross. He searched his mind.

"Hmmm, that muggle star, Daniel Radcliffe is really hot," he replied.

The group laughed.

After many embarrassing truths, including Fred's confession of having a secret fetish for mangoes (seriously, he liked to eat them, peel them, kiss them, sleep with them, hug them, call them his "squishable love" and other various forms of romantic endearment), and Ron's secret desire to be a motorbike junkie ("they're just so hardcore I wish I had tattoos too. And loud music and woo"). They were all quite drunk (they'd been drinking even if they hadn't had to).

"Ha-reeeeeeeeeeee" Hermione spoke in a high very un-Hermione-ish voice, "Hahahahahahahaaa!"

Hermione grabbed onto Harry's waist, hugging him. Cedric decided this looked like fun, and tried to lunge at Harry's waist too, but failed as he landed flat on his face, passing out on grass. Everyone else followed suit, they were all going to wake up with killer hangovers in the morning.

Walking into stadium after portkey blah di blah blah blah

"Oh mah Gawd, Fred, what the hell do you think you're doing" George asked in a voice which closely resembled Cartman from _South Park_. Fred had been having lots of romping sex in a sexy bush on the side of a sexy road with _lots_ of sexy people such as… Draco Malfoy. Oh, right, that was in the dream George had had last night. Except in his dream it'd been him instead of Fred. Snapping back to the real world, Fred had been trying to chew off his left arm so as to provide a distraction so he could steal his right shoe. Which put them in a rather awkwardly compromising situation, causing onlookers to quirk eyebrows, tilt head and gape (in that order), as they passed by the identical boys.

Fred pondered George's question for a few minutes.

"Uh, the Veela told me to…" he replied rather uncertainly.

"Oh well in that case it's _perfectly_ acceptable." George's tone was dripping sarcasm.

"Really?" Fred asked surprised. "In that case I'll be d-"

"No, you prat. I was being sarcastic."

"You know, they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Hermione said matter-of-factly putting her 2 sickles worth into the conversation.

"That's funny, because they also say that it requires the highest degree of intelligence."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shot him a look which simply said "You've gotta be kidding me".

"Well if you're going to be like that, why don't you make like a Whomping Willow and leave."

"You do realise that expression doesn't really work in that circumstance" Hermione pointed out. George made a face at her and handed his ticket to the gatekeeper whilst passing through the metal detector. Naturally, 'cause karma exists and all, he beeped. Almost instantaneously he was set upon by some of the SWAT team on standby. They promptly placed a full body bind on him and levitated him into a nearby security tent, where he was strip-searched (after all, anyone who beeps definitely has a bomb). The Weasley's, Diggorys and Harry (LO-NERRR Harry!) exchanged glances and moved to the side of the walkway in suspenseful suspense. It wasn't long before George was thrown out of the tent, in a rather spectacular fashion, wearing naught but a pair of boxers with "this way to heaven" emblazoned across the front. Oh the shame.

Everyone burst out laughing. George was a shade of red that clashed evilly with his hair. The SWAT team magicked his clothes back on him as they exited the tent and returned to their positions.

The group began to make their way up to their box. Harry quickly told the others he'd meet them there as he was going to pay a visit to the sweets stall. As he walked along one of the upper rows of the stadium, he promptly stacked it (almost) as something sharp and shiny dug into his foot.

fuck moment

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly.

"Nice legs, Potter."

Harry glanced down to the level below to see where the arrogantly smooth voice ('cause everyone in this fic has a smooth voice) had come from.

"Draco, how dare you even consider complimenting this…scum," Lucius said to his son, who was smirking at Harry.

"Sorry father – it had to be said."

Harry locked eyes with Draco before realising that the metal contraption pinning his foot to the ground was causing him considerable pain.

fuck moment

"Fuck." he cursed loudly. Again. "That's gonna bruise." He looked down at his foot.

"I see you have noticed that the Pimp Cane bites," Lucius drawled.

Draco made a biting motion. Harry wasn't sure whether it was kinky or disturbing. He decided on both.

"What the hell was that?" Harry enquired as Draco did it again. Maybe he was like, some weirdo S&M addict.

"I call it the 'Bite de la Pimp Cane'."

silence…

Lucius eyed his son with incredulity for a second, before snapping his attention back to Harry, who had detached his foot from the jaws of The Pimp Cane. He was now trying to sneak away unnoticed. As he crept away he heard Lucius' cold voice.

"Enjoy it. While you still can..."

Harry disregarded this and strode merrily along as if nothing had happened. When he reached the crew, who had found their seats in the corporate boxes, he tripped down the stairs and cannoned into Ron and Hermione, almost knocking them over the edge.

fuck moment

"FUCK! Watch were you're falling mate!" yelled Ron

"Its not like I can really control where I fall. You try!" retorted Harry.

"Alright," Ron answered, as he ran up the stairs and launched himself down towards his friends.

"Dive left!" Harry yelled to Hermione and Ginny as Ron flew directly towards them. They dove. They crashed. Ron yelled. Ron crashed.

"Ha, told you so, you retard." Harry laughed.

"Let me try again." Ron replied and ran back up the stairs before launching himself off again. This time, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were all safely out of the way, so they watched with great amusement as Ron came crashing down onto the stairs. They were still laughing as they walked away, until they heard a very high pitched squeal from behind them.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!!" Squealed Ron as he tumbled down the stairs, grabbing onto the railing that was sliding through his hands.

"He's going to go off the edge!" Ginny yelped. Harry and Hermione were killing themselves laughing over this prospect, and were wishing that they had brought their camera. Ron cannoned into the railing having built up a fair amount of momentum from his tumble down the stairs, and as if in slow motion, broke through that barricade and only just managed to fling out a hand to grab onto the floor.

Fuck moment

"Oh fuck. Mrs Weasley is gonna kill me." Harry muttered as they all ran forward to help Ron.

T'was a life or death situation.


End file.
